


Let's Get It On (You're Having My Baby)

by fettuccine_alfreylo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baby making, F/M, Humor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3120581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fettuccine_alfreylo/pseuds/fettuccine_alfreylo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unabashed, unapologetic babymaking sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Get It On (You're Having My Baby)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [channyfaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/channyfaith/gifts).



> I edited this while listening to these [two](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cqkwykA4iFw) [songs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SFHWl-ZyRAg) and I laughed my ass off so...that's why the title is what it is. Not sorry.

Sherlock pieces it together the same way he solves a complicated crime. He picks up on seemingly insignificant details – Molly smiling whenever she spots a toddler in the supermarket, the fact that the occasional laughing baby video can be found in her internet history, the way she offers to change Isabelle Watson’s nappy or rock her to sleep – and then adds all the details together, forming a logical conclusion: Molly wants a baby.

Next comes the unveiling. Molly denies it at first (no doubt because she fears he’ll disapprove) but eventually comes around when he states the obvious: she’s no longer on birth control, they've been in a steady, mutually agreeable relationship for two years and they’re both financially stable. No time like the present, he reasons, and while he can tell that Molly still has her doubts as to whether he wants to start a family as much as she does, she readily agrees. So, after a visit to Molly’s GP, they set a date to start trying: the first night of her next ovulation cycle.

Dinner is had, wine is drunk and they fall into bed with each other in much the same way as they do every other night. Sherlock quickly strips down to his pants but he takes his time in undressing Molly. It’s no different than the countless other times he’s done it and yet, in a way, it is; he maps out her body as he removes each article of clothing, running his hands over her curves and crevices with which he’s grown accustomed, thinking of how her body will change in the upcoming months. How her soft, flat belly will grow. How big her breasts will become. It’s strangely erotic, this act of envisioning what she’ll look like when round with his child, to the point where he can’t help but share these exciting thoughts with her.

“Your breasts are already so tender to the touch. God, Molly, _imagine_ …” He bends down and takes a dusky nipple into his mouth, sucking until it’s taut. Then he lets go and runs his lips along the underside of her breast, kissing the birthmark he knows is there. “Imagine how sensitive they’ll be when you’re pregnant. They’ll ache a bit towards the end, I’m afraid, but you need only ask and I’ll try to make it better. You know that, don’t you?”

“Sherlock…” Molly breathes. She tangles her hands in his hair, keeping him firmly pressed against her chest. “Yes, I know. Keep going.”

Encouraged, he lavishes her other breast with the same treatment as before. Taking the soft flesh into his hand and kneading it until she moans; kisses to the underside, circling the areola with the tip of his tongue until the skin of it puckers and then finally, _finally_ trapping the small bud of her nipple between his lips. It’s a ritual of sorts, one that he’s revised and experimented with over the course of their relationship, and he finds he can’t _wait_ to keep doing it as her breasts change their shape and size. He imagines it’ll feel exactly as it did when he touched her breasts for the first time – that thrilling, intoxicating pleasure rising up inside him – except with the added benefit of his knowing exactly how to please her. No guesswork, no doubts as to whether she’s enjoying herself. In a word, perfect.

He continues to tease her breasts with his mouth until he’s satisfied he’s worked her into a state in which she's incredibly aroused, very wet and just a bit desperate.

“Spread your legs,” he urges, backing away from her to the edge of the bed. He can tell that Molly knows what’s coming; with a trembling sigh, she places a hand on her belly and eases her thighs apart. Sherlock sits back on his ankles and takes in the sight and smell of her for a moment. Her natural musk is there, of course, along with their intermingled sweat and the light perfume she always wears. And then there’s the view. Her vaginal lips are tinged pink, the inner pair glistening with arousal. It’s enough to make him fall forward once more and bury his face in her sex, which is exactly what he does.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Molly bites out. Her legs widen even more and she tilts her pelvis up, affording him a better range of motion. He laps at her entrance, reveling in the taste of her on his tongue. Once again, images flood his mind as to how this specific act will differ when she’s far into her pregnancy. He’ll have to help her get into position and he can’t expect her to be as flexible as she is now – throwing her legs over his shoulders in abandon and digging her heels into his back with a lusty moan – but he’s confident they’ll be able to make it work.

“More?” Sherlock asks when he pauses for breath.

Molly gives a shaky sort of laugh before answering him. “God yes, Sherlock, of course, it's just…what’s gotten into you?”

“You have,” he answers truthfully, “I’m just sorry it’s taken me this long.”

“For what?”

“To catch up.” He presses wet, unhurried kisses to her inner thighs. “To realize this is what I want for us, too.”

“Are you sure? Because we could always wait, you know. I’ve waited this long and frankly I’d given up on ever having children long before we got together so I’m not in any rush – well, I am a bit, since I’ll be thirty-six this year and it’s increasingly difficult to conceive the closer I get to middle age, and-”

“Molly.”

“Sorry. I’ll just, um-” Sherlock glances up from his view of her spread legs. Molly’s head is tossed back and she’s staring up at the ceiling, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll shush now. You can get back to…whatever it is you were doing just now with your tongue. The thing that made my hips buck.”

“I have a better idea.”

“Hm?”

Sherlock moves up her body until they’re chest to chest then, quite suddenly, he grabs hold of her hips, rolling with her until she’s on top of him.

“Oh,” Molly smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to his nose. “I like this idea. Very much.”

“I thought you would.”

“We might as well get our fill of this now.” She slides a hand between their bodies and rubs at his erection through the thin fabric of his pants. “Probably won’t be a comfortable position for you when I’m as round as a beach ball.”

“I w-won’t care about that,” he insists, finding it harder to concentrate now that her hand is inside his underwear, palming the head of his cock and spreading beady moisture from the slit.

“No?” She kisses him again, this time on the mouth, all the while stroking the length of him.

He shakes his head. “A killer sumo wrestler once tried to suffocate me. John had to run for help because he couldn't pull the man off me by himself.”

Molly laughs against his lips. “If you’re about to compare my weight while pregnant to that of a sumo wrestler…”

“Not at all. It’s merely an illustration of how much weight I can bear. The man was much, much heavier than the average pregnant woman and I managed to survive.”

“That’s…oddly reassuring.”

Molly twists her wrist in such a way so that Sherlock sees stars and forgets how to speak for a moment. When his sight returns to normal and he can manage more than a few inarticulate grunts, he pulls the waistband of his pants down with one hand and grabs Molly with the other, frantically thrusting against her wet heat.

“Fuck me,” he pleads, his words raspy and utterly desperate on his tongue. “Use me so I can give you what you want.”

Without a word, Molly takes his cock and aligns their bodies together; sinking down inch by agonizing inch until she’s fully seated and his bollocks touch the globes of her arse. They lock eyes, both voiceless as they adjust to the exquisite feeling, until Molly starts to rock against him.

“What do you want, Molly?” he urges, reaching up to tweak one of her nipples.

She quickly snaps her hips against his and they both moan from the sensation. “I-I want you to come inside me.”

“And?” He pistons his hips upward and Molly gasps, losing her rhythm for a moment.

“I want you to give me a baby.” She continues to grind against him, leaning forward so that her clitoris is stimulated by their bodies touching. “ _Please_. I want a baby. I want _your_ baby.”

It’s the ‘please’ that does it for him. With a curse, Sherlock flips them back over so that he’s on top, his weight supported by his forearms. Molly wraps her legs around his waist without being told to and meets him thrust for thrust. He takes her roughly, just the way she likes it, filling her up again and again until she’s a shaky mess, mumbling incoherent things and clenching around his cock as she comes undone.

Sherlock follows shortly after. He’s never been able to last long after Molly finishes. It’s something in her face, in her expression, that makes his hips stutter to a halt and his entire body seize up as his orgasm hits. He empties himself inside her body, shuddering each time a tremor jolts his system, and then gently rolls off of her and onto his back, completely spent.

Molly’s the first to speak, her breaths still labored from the force of their coupling. “God. That was…”

“A pillow.”

“What?”

“Give me a pillow. Make it two.”

With a guffaw, she reaches over the side of the bed and picks up two discarded pillows off the floor. She throws them at him with more force than strictly necessary and then slumps back down on the bed, crossing her arms below her chest.

“Now lift your hips.”

“Oh. Right.” Now that she’s caught on that the pillows are for her use and not his, she gives him a sheepish grin and plants her feet on the mattress, lifting her bum so Sherlock can wedge both of them under her lower back.

“A bit awkward for you, I think, but it’s best to stay like that for at least thirty minutes.”

“You’ve read up on this?”

“The website said that elevating the hips in such a way encourages the sperm through the cervix, uterus and into the Fallopian tubes–”

Molly winces. “I get the picture.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s…” She pauses for a moment, thinking, and then dissolves into giggles.

“It’s what?”

“Cute.”

“The fact that I’ve researched the best sex positions for pregnancy and how long it’s recommended a woman keep her hips elevated after the act…is _cute_?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Molly’s giggles start up again and Sherlock rolls his eyes. He supposes it’s never too early to get used to her calling him that. If she’s already finding this sort of business ‘cute’, he shudders to think of what she’ll say when he offers to research best birthing practices or worse, if he’s ever forced into wearing a papoose. Still, all embarrassing thoughts aside, he can and will continue to take comfort in the knowledge that Molly wants this, he wants this and they’re about to start a family together. A _family_. One he and Molly will have for the rest of their lives, and one that will continue on long after they’re both gone.

It’s a sobering thought but also a welcome one. After all, a wise woman once said that family is all you have in the end. As Sherlock presses a kiss to Molly’s shoulder and closes his eyes, he begins to realize he’ll be just fine with that.  


End file.
